Chapter 15
The First Wild Berry
Lyra finds a ripe berry, guided by an instinct she doesn't understand. The forest whispers its safety. The taste is sweet, a forbidden delight.
The air in the den hung thick and heavy, a cloying blanket woven from the scent of damp earth, sickness, and the ever-present undercurrent of fear. Lyra lay curled beside her brother, Zephyr, her small body a fragile shield against the chill that seemed to seep from the very stones of their home. His breathing was shallow, a ragged whisper that tugged at her heart with each labored exhale. Lyra’s own throat felt raw, her head heavy, but a fierce protectiveness burned brighter than any discomfort. She watched Zephyr, her amber eyes, usually so sharp and observant, clouded with worry. He stirred, a low moan escaping his lips.
"Lyra?" His voice was a threadbare sound, barely audible.
"I'm here, Zephyr," she murmured, nudging him gently with her nose. "Just rest."
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